


Tightens its Grip

by lucianowriter



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ian goes to therapy, Ian in Chicago, Love is still there, M/M, Mickey creates his own therapy, Mickey in Mexico, Personal Growth, Post Season 7, Span of a year, Texting, separate lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9364973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucianowriter/pseuds/lucianowriter
Summary: Mickey and Ian parted ways at the border. They both love each other, but they also know they need to grow as people apart from each other so they can come together once more. Spans a year post split. Ian works on his mental health some more and Mickey learns to live for himself and survive without Ian. Both so they can come back together and live for each other once more.Inspired by the song Invisible Thread by Matt Gould and Griffin Matthews. Go check it out. Seriously.





	

Ian looks up at the house and sighs. He's only been gone a couple of days but it feels more like years. His heart and mind were heavy. Leaving Mickey to go into Mexico had been hard. He wanted to say yes to him. He really did, but he also knew that it would mean taking steps back instead of forward. 

 

In the last year or so Ian had really moved forward in his life. He'd gotten his shit together. He had found his true calling, using his knowledge and experience to help people. Ultimately he now understood what his sister had meant when she said “Mickey would light a match to that”. She hadn't meant to be malicious or cruel; she had meant that Mickey was a fugitive and going with him would destroy all that Ian had worked for.

 

With another sigh Ian opens the gate and steps up to the front porch. The house seems eerily quiet and sad. Not that the house ever seemed overly happy, but right now it was unnaturally so. Stepping in the front door Ian gets an idea why. The whole family is gathered around the front room, even Frank. Everyone looks to be in some stage of grief. Lip is clearly sad and angry. Fiona is just stunned. Debbie is sobbing. Frank is well Frank. He's drunk. Liam is the only one not sad or upset at all. He's cheerfully looking at a book in his lap.

 

“What's going on?” Ian finally finds his voice as he steps into the room and situates himself next to the couch.

 

“Your mother, who birthed your ungrateful ass, is dead. She suffered. Those good for nothing medical  _ professionals  _ just let her die.” Frank rambles out, his hands flying around in gesticulations and his words slurring a bit.

 

“Shut up Frank!” Lip growls from the corner near the kitchen. “Fuck I need a smoke. Wanna join me?” He looks directly at Ian and motions towards the back with his shoulder.

 

Ian drops his backpack and steps around the couch and Frank to follow Lip. The two step into the back yard and Lip pulls out his cigarettes. He gets one for himself and hands a second one to Ian. They light up without a word. Ian takes a deep drag from his and slowly releases the smoke. With each second he feels the tension in his body slowly fade. Mickey was free. Monica was dead. Mickey was free.

 

“Wanna tell me why you look like hell?” Lip gives his brother a sidelong look and quirks his eyebrow as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

 

“Monica died.” Ian lies simply, shrugging his shoulders.

 

“Bullshit. You just found out. You looked like shit the minute you walked in the door.” Lip spits on the ground.

 

Ian is silent. He debates how he’s going to word everything. Lip has always known him better than anyone else. He can tell when Ian is close to manic and he can tell when Ian is lying or doesn’t want to talk about something. To Lip, Ian is a simple algebraic expression; easy to figure out.

 

“I took off for a few days. Needed out of Chicago.” Ian shrugs through his non-answer and takes another drag.

 

“Mickey.” Lip doesn’t ask a question he just says it. He knows. Lip always knows. He may not like it but, Lip knows the kind of hold Mickey has on Ian.

 

“Mickey.” Ian confirms. He gives a sigh and looks directly into his brother’s eyes. 

 

“Where?” Lip asks, their voices have suddenly gone into almost whisper territory, like if they speak louder the police will somehow hear it.

 

“Mexico.” Ian says simply, taking the final drag from his cigarette and tossing it on the ground before stomping on it to put it out.

 

Lip doesn’t respond. He just quietly observes as Ian goes through the battle of his mind and heart over the decision he made. Lip knows that what Ian did wasn’t at all easy for him. Without a word, Lip tosses his cigarette aside as well and pulls his brother into a hug. They don’t need words. It’s just understood between them that Ian did the right thing, even if it broke his heart to do it.

 

They walk back inside, hunching their shoulders against the cold. As they enter the kitchen, Ian turns to Lip and stops him with a touch to his arm.

 

“What happened with Monica?” Ian asks, giving Lip a look that says ‘don't bullshit me’.

 

“Well we were celebrating her and Frank tying the knot.” Lip starts. Ian gives a cough in shock, and Lip responds by shaking his head in a ‘don't ask’ way. “Anyways she mixed drugs into the alcohol. Next morning Frank couldn't wake her up.” Lip kinda just shrugs.

 

“Damn.” Ian whistles. “Guess I thought she'd never die. Like Frank.” 

 

“Yeah.” Lip replies. Ian can tell from the way he keeps glancing at the beers on the counter that he's itching for a drink. 

 

“So back on the wagon?” Ian lifts his eyebrow.

 

“Yeah and it's sucks man. I really want a drink. To help me deal with this shit.” With a clap on his shoulders Lip walks out of the kitchen and into the front room. 

  
  


The next day Ian wakes up to the sound of his father crashing around downstairs, drunkenly calling out for Monica. He groans and rolls out of bed. He debates for about ten minutes on whether or not he's gonna stick around or go see Trevor. He really should go see Trevor. After all he ignored him for three days.

 

He grabs his pills and lopes downstairs for a drink to wash them down. It is decided in the process that he will go first thing to talk with Trevor and then come back to focus on his family. Ian blatantly ignores Frank as he goes about his business of getting ready. 

 

Just as he's about to leave the house he realizes he doesn't have his phone, in fact he realizes he doesn't remember seeing it past getting off the bus yesterday. He frantically searches through the things in the living room that he had just left there. It's not there. He's trying not to freak out, but not having his phone is throwing his whole day off.

 

“Here you go.” Fiona says softly, tapping him on the shoulder and handing him his phone. “Found it in the bathroom just now.”

 

“Shit. Must've accidentally left it there.” Ian curses and gives his sister a thank you smile before dashing out the door.

 

He heads toward Trevor’s job. On his way he checks his phone for any notifications. There is a message notification and a missed call. The call is from Trevor from last night and the message is from an unknown number. Ian ignores the text and instead chooses to call Trevor back.

 

“Ian? Where have you been?” Trevor’s voice answers almost immediately. There is concern in his voice. 

 

“Can we talk about it face to face? I'm headed over with coffee and muffins.” Ian responds trying to sound unconcerned about what he was about to tell Trevor.

 

“Sure I'm in my office but I don't have any plans til group at 10:30.” Trevor’s voice changes from concerned to optimistic. 

 

Ian hangs up. He bites his lip thinking about the things he did with Mickey in the last few days. He cheated on Trevor, plain and simple. How was Trevor going to react? Ian couldn't help it, he will always have a part of him that always pulls him towards Mickey. He knows in his heart that he's about to break Trevor's heart. So when he steps into the cafe to grab coffees and muffins he decides to get Trevor’s favorites. A way to soften the blow.

 

He is waiting for his order when he remembers the text message from before. He should look at it just in case. So Ian pulls out his phone and clicks on the notification. 

 

It's from Unknown.

 

_ 2:35am  _

_ Hey I know it's late, but look at this shit. Turns out my white ass burns.  _

 

Attached is a picture of a severely redfaced Mickey. He is squinting into the camera and behind him Ian can see the beach. He smiles despite himself. Mickey finally made it to his beach. Ian was glad. He pockets his phone without responding though because he can't bring himself to go back down that rabbit hole again. 

 

When he hears his name called Ian grabs the drinks and muffins and walks the block and a half to Trevor’s office. He is still a basket of nerves about what is about to transpire. However, before knocking on the door he fixes his face with a smile. 

 

“Come in.” Trevor calls when Ian knocks.

 

Ian enters and Trevor's smile takes him by surprise. It's not bad just unsettling considering his change in demeanor in about ten minutes is gonna hurt worse. Ian hates knowing he's about to throw a wrench in Trevor’s day.

 

“So…” Ian tries to start but finds himself nervously trying not to speak the truth. 

 

“You wanna start with why we haven't spoken in 3 days. Except for a short text saying you needed a couple days.” Trevor raises his eyebrow at Ian. He doesn't sound mad, but he doesn't sound happy either. 

 

“Yeah. Um. My ex. It's complicated.” Ian tries so hard to find the words but they don't come.

 

“The ex you said you weren't gonna get mixed up in his shit?” Trevor’s voice is now guarded and his face is no longer smiling.

 

Ian is surprised. He expected it to take longer for Trevor’s whole demeanor to change, but he hasn't even told him the worst of it yet and Trevor’s already bordering on mad or maybe it's disappointed, Ian can't completely tell.

 

“Yeah. His name is Mickey. I might have gotten involved in his shit after all. I, uh, gave him some cash and drove him to Mexico.” Ian glosses over the finer details for now. Trevor needs to hear each thing in sections. So he doesn't get fully bombarded all at once and end up more pissed off.

 

“So you took a  _ fugitive _ to Mexico and helped him escape.” Trevor says each word slowly as if trying to understand.

 

“It's complicated. Mickey and I have been together on and off since we were 16.” Ian looks at Trevor, silently pleading him to understand.

 

At first Trevor doesn't say anything. He just sits there, playing with his muffin. Ian can't decide which is worse Trevor’s silence or him yelling and getting upset. His next words are not what Ian expects at all.

 

“Do you love him?” Trevor’s voice is quiet and dejected, like he doesn't actually want to hear Ian’s answer.

 

Ian doesn't really know how to answer that. Well he does but, screaming out ‘yes’ would definitely destroy Trevor and Ian didn't want that. In fact he hoped he and Trevor could remain friends. So instead he gives an easier answer.

 

“He was my first love. He will always have this invisible connection to me. One that will always make me want to help him.” Ian reaches across the desk to grasp Trevor’s hand.

 

“So this is it.” Trevor pulls completely away from Ian and scoffs. “I'm not enough for you.” Trevor doesn't say it but, Ian can hear the unspoken ‘man’ in his statement. 

 

“No you are perfect, I just think it's better we stay friends.” Ian tries to reassure Trevor.

 

“Fuck you Ian.” Trevor spits the words and for the first time ever, Ian sees a look of disgust on Trevor’s face. “Just tell me. Did you fuck him?”

 

“Uh” Ian doesn't really know what to say. He knows he should be honest but he doesn't know how to be.

 

“Don't worry I got my answer.” Trevor says as a means of dismissal. It's clear from his face and his tone that he's beyond pissed off. 

 

“Trevor, I-” Ian tries to explain, or whatever. But Trevor turns his body away from Ian, until all Ian can see is his back. He knows that he is no longer welcomed in Trevor’s space so Ian leaves. 

 

“I really am sorry.” Ian mumbles at Trevor before opening the door and walking out. 

 

FUCK! Why did Ian always have to fuck everything up. It was just like him to go all Monica on someone he cared about. After all he was a result of Monica cheating on Frank, who she really loved. So wasn’t it safe to say Ian cheating on Trevor with his ex-boyfriend was a typical Monica Gallagher thing to do?

 

Shit, Monica. Monica is dead. She will never again come storming into Ian’s life like a tornado and throw everything off kilter. Never again will Ian be compelled to help her even though she will just end up fucking him over. His mother was dead. Shit he hadn’t referred to her as that in years. Why was he suddenly doing so now?

 

He really wants a drink, but he knows he has to watch himself because he can’t screw up his meds. So instead he decides to pull out a cigarette. Taking a long drag from the thing eases his tension a little bit, but he knows it won’t last long. He still has to go back to his family and plan whatever kind of funeral for Monica. If only he could just run again.

 

He knows he can’t because of his job. He was allowed time off til day after tomorrow because of him being “sick” and then extended because his mom died. It probably helped that he was a punctual, dependable worker and had been for almost a year. 

 

Damn he would run if he could though. Running sounded more exciting than facing the reality and messy feelings of Monica’s death. Ian remembers one of the times Monica returned. He had run then. Right to Mickey. They had barely been together at the time but even then he had something inside him drawing him to Mickey and his comfort.

 

_ “I needed to see you.” Ian stumbles over his words standing on the Milkovich porch. _

 

_ “Not a good time.” Mickey hisses at him while someone in the background yells out something indiscernible.  _

 

_ “I don’t know where else to go.” Ian rushes through his words, some of them catching a bit in his throat. _

 

_ “I thought you were working today.” Mickey’s voice softens as he looks concerned for Ian. _

 

_ “Linda’s gonna have my ass. I’m supposed to be there now.” Ian replies, slowing down for the first time since showing up. _

 

_ “I’ll meet you there in twenty.” Mickey replies before shutting the door. _

 

Even then Mickey had been his comfort when life got rough or messy or complicated. If only Ian could run to him now. He could, but that would be counterproductive to what he just did. Being with or around Mickey right now would just ruin everything he had been building up this past year. It wouldn’t do him any good. But dammit if he didn’t want to go there badly. Especially now.

 

Ian only manages to get through the rest of the fucked up day because of a joint him and Lip share the minute he gets back to the Gallagher house. If he could still drink however much he wanted he would’ve done it drunk too. Drunk and high would’ve been better than letting his confused emotions fester inside his head.

 

He hated Monica, just as much as Fiona or Lip did, but he also couldn’t help loving her. She was their mother but, it was more than that. He understood her better than anyone else because he knew how easy it was to choose freedom over medication. It was a battle everyday for him to take his pills. He did it though because he’d seen what it did to Monica when she was off them, but he also knew what it did to everyone else when she was off meds. Ian’s sure that if he asked he could get Lip to give him a straight answer about what he was like off his meds too. Yes, being medication free was easier but, made life more complicated at the same time. 

 

“Can’t we just toss her in a hole in the backyard and be done with it?” Ian hears from the back door. He looks up from his one allotted bottle of beer and sees Carl. Carl in his dress uniform from Military School. Carl the kid who always blew shit up was now a respectable young man.

 

“I second Carl.” Ian says hazily, his eyes unfocused from both boredom and being buzzed from the beer.

 

“You guys are ungrateful little ingrates.” Frank yells from his spot by the sink.

 

Almost immediately Fiona, Lip and Ian all reply in unison, “No one asked you, Frank.”

 

In the end they all agreed on a simple grave at the cemetery nearby. Nothing too fancy, not that they had money for that anyways. She was buried there the next day with only her children and Frank in attendance. Afterwards everyone went to the Alibi for celebratory drinks. As Frank put it, to celebrate her life. Ian didn’t give a shit either way and neither did any of the rest of his siblings for that matter. However, any excuse to drink is welcomed so they all got drunk. Well, everyone but Ian and Lip. 

 

Ian managed to help Fiona home with little to no help. She was plastered for the first time in years. She hadn’t really let herself go like this since her letting go had almost killed Liam. However, losing Monica seemed to throw that out the window. Ian wished he was more the type to outwardly show his confusion and mixed feelings about her death. Maybe then it would all be easier, he could accept help and comfort from his family. Unfortunately, Ian was more the suffer in silence type. So he did.

 

After making sure Fiona was tucked safely in bed and Liam was asleep, Ian plops down on his bed. He pulls out his phone. A part of him really wants to call Trevor, maybe try and talk things out with him. He knows that Trevor won’t answer though. After all, Ian did just destroy him yesterday. His next thought is Mickey. Maybe he could call Mickey and talk things over with him. 

 

Was that really a good idea though? Was letting Mickey in a smart decision on his part? This was always how it started, he would think he could just let Mickey in a little. Then Mickey and he would end up going the whole mile. No it was probably best he not call Mickey. 

 

Unfortunately for him, his hands had a different idea. Soon it was pushing all the right buttons to call Mickey’s new number.

 

“Hello. Ian?” the familiar voice rings out from the receiver. Mickey ends up repeating himself at least two more times before Ian finds the ability to speak.

 

“Hey, Mick.” Ian sighs, pressing the phone as close to his ear as possible. As if that would transfer Mickey from Mexico to south side Chicago.

 

“Got my picture?” Mickey responds, as if he knows Ian is at a loss on what to say right now.

 

“Y-yeah. I got it. Your white ass is beyond burned.” Ian stammers at first and then finds his stride. 

 

“I know right?” Mickey chuckles and it occurs to Ian that he sounds genuinely happy and free. That alone spurs Ian to say his next words.

 

“I didn’t know who else to call.” Ian croaks out, his voice getting choked up for the first time since hearing about Monica’s death.

 

“What’s going on Gallagher.” Mickey’s tone turns soft and concerned. It’s crazy to think Mickey has changed into someone who would easily use that tone of voice with another person. Ian knows that he helped him become that. Maybe that’s why they will always have this unbreakable bond.

 

“Monica. She died.” Ian finally replies after letting a silence linger between them for a spell.

 

“Shit.” Mickey breathes with a whistle under his breath. 

 

Ian knew that calling Mickey was a good decision. He didn’t have to explain anything with Mickey. He just knew what that would mean for Ian. Mickey had been around the last couple times Monica had come blazing through town. He knew her brand of crazy, but also that Ian was terrified to become that as well.

 

“You aren’t her, you know. You never will be.” Mickey says, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

 

“You don’t know that.” Ian argues, without any conviction behind it though. He knows Mickey is right he just wants to hear Mickey say it all.

 

“You don’t completely abandon your family. You take your meds, even when you don’t want to. You aren’t her.” Mickey reiterates, a strength in his voice Ian desperately needs right now. 

 

“I miss you.” Ian says softly, as if saying it louder will make it less true.

 

“Same, but you need to be there. You have a life Ian. One that doesn’t include me anymore. I’m proud of that.” Mickey’s words ring in Ian’s ears, even after Mickey says good bye and hangs up. 

 

Mickey’s words end up comforting him and enveloping him as he drifts off to sleep. He has to go back to work the next morning so having an easy time getting to sleep makes him happy. Or as happy as he can be with the ache for Mickey still in his chest. Ian knows that his decision was the right one and Mickey’s words just re-enforces that, but damn if it don’t hurt like hell. 

 

The next morning Ian is 10 minutes early for his shift. He wants to make up for being gone practically a whole week. He sees Sue is already there as well so he saunters over to her and smiles. 

 

“Look who finally decided to show up. Must have been one hell of an illness, Gallagher.” Sue teases, playfully punching his shoulder. 

 

“Well I was only sick a couple of those days. The others were because.” Ian pauses, right as he is about to say ‘Monica died’ because he realizes Sue isn’t going to know who Monica is. He moves past her towards the lockers to get completely ready for the day.

 

Sue stops him and turns him so that he looks directly at her. “I know kid. I know your mom died. Boss told us all. Said you might need some time.” Sue’s tone takes on a motherly nature. It unnerves Ian because he’s never had anyone besides Fiona address him in such a way.

 

“I’m good. Ready to work!” Ian says, plastering on a fake smile as he fastens his belt around his waist. 

 

Sue gives him a knowing look but doesn't say anything. Instead they load their gear onto the rig as they get a call about a person in distress. Ian likes being back at work, it distracts him away from all the things on his mind. 

 

“You should talk to someone about it.” Sue says suddenly as they drive towards their favorite taco stand for lunch. 

 

“What?” Ian tries to sound like he has no idea what she means, but his voice betrays him. The underlying confliction is clear in the way his confident start tapers off by the end.

 

“You know about your mom dying.” Sue gives him a sidelong glance.

 

Ian’s hands clench in his lap, stopping himself from unnecessarily lashing out at her. She was only trying to help, besides she spoke a truth. Ian really could use some help with it all. He had too much going on in his head to handle it alone. Not to mention his usual “therapist” is Lip and he's in no position to help anyone besides himself right now. 

 

“Yeah maybe.” Ian finally admits. He turns his head towards Sue and gives her a smile to reassure her.

 

“I'd just hate to lose you as a partner because all this messes with your bipolar disorder.” Sue reaches over and gives his hand a squeeze. “Just promise me you'll get help before it's too late.” 

 

“I will.” Ian squeezes her hand back before taking his own hand back. The look she gives him makes Ian think she knows there is more going on with him than just Monica’s death. It wouldn't surprise him if she did. She was a very observant woman.

 

That afternoon, after clocking out, Ian pulls out his phone and looks up a number. He dials and takes a deep breath before responding to the greeting on the other side.

 

“Yeah. I'm Ian Gallagher and I want to set up a first time appointment.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Leaving Ian behind sucked. Why did it feel like shit when he knew Ian had made the right decision? Shouldn't that automatically make everything better? 

 

Laying on the beach he should be enjoying his freedom but all he can think about is Ian. He feels the same ache in his chest that he'd felt back when Ian left him for the Army. He thought he'd never feel that ache ever again, but here he was free from the cops and pining for the redhead. 

 

That alone compelled him to text the guy. It had only been a day or so but, damn he missed him. So he sent Ian a picture. Partially to make contact and partially to tell himself that he was fine without him. That he could be happy.

 

He wasn't even surprised when Ian never texted him back. After all, Ian had made his decision. He'd walked away. Whatever, Mickey didn't need that asshole in his life. Ian would've only brought him down. 

 

That didn't stop him from staring at the old worn photo he had of Ian. He lay in the hotel that night staring at it and lightly tracing the lines of his face. Yeah Mickey didn't need him. 

 

The envelope of money Ian had shoved at him at the border stares at him from atop the dresser. It's taunting him.  _ You need Ian. _

 

“I don't need you bitch!” Mickey screams at the money as he crosses the room and throws it into a drawer. 

 

He felt the ache in his chest ease a bit after his outburst. He settled back on the bed and knew that he was going to have to find a job tomorrow if he really didn't want to use Ian’s money. He figures he's good with his hands so he can probably find a job somewhere building or repairing stuff. 

 

He decides to ask the hotel manager tomorrow if there was a job he could do. One where he wouldn't have to know too much Spanish. At least not right off the bat. He already knew he would pick up on it easily enough, because after a couple years with Svetlana he picked up a few basic words of Russian. That was without even trying to learn.

 

He imagines what Ian would say if he heard him speaking Spanish. With a smile Mickey drifts off to sleep. 

 

The next morning Mickey lays in bed a while. It's nice having the freedom to do what he wanted when he wanted. In prison everything was on a schedule, even pissing. It was the little things like this that he was learning to better appreciate. He glances at his burner phone and sees that Ian never did respond to his text. With a shake of his head, Mickey pushes away from any thoughts of the redhead.

 

He freshens up and heads to the front desk. A pretty young Hispanic girl sits at the desk, reading a book. She smiles when he approaches. 

 

“Can I help you?” Her English is perfect but it still has an accent similar to those who spoke Spanish. 

 

“I need to find a job. One where I speak English and can use my hands.” Mickey says slowly and with a smile.

 

The girl doesn't respond instead she walks away. Mickey curses to himself because of course she wouldn't have any way of helping him. His whole plan was fucked and he knew it. 

 

When she returns she isn't alone. With her is a clearly older, if only slightly, man with similar features to hers. His skin is a dark tan and his hair is raven black. Mickey can't help staring. The young man smiles and then speaks.

 

“Rosa say you need job. Work hands?” He holds up his to show that he understands what Mickey is looking for.

 

“Yeah. A job using my hands.” Mickey smiles and nods in affirmation.

 

“We need lawn guy. Work with hands.” The young man elaborates.

 

“What Pedro is saying is you could get a job working here if you want. It's a job helping maintain the outside appearance of the hotel.” Rosa steps in when Mickey doesn't answer right away.

 

“No I got that. Just can't believe you're serious. You don't know me.” Mickey stammers, thrown by their kindness. He's not had many people do him a kindness like this in his life.

 

Rosa simply gives him a smile and Pedro motions for Mickey to follow him. Mickey takes a deep breath and trails after Pedro. He didn't know just what to expect, but a job is a job, which he desperately needs right now.

 

The job isn't much just your basic upkeep shit. Mickey has to make sure the grounds always looks well kept and tidy. He also has to keep the structure of the buildings looking good from the outside. 

 

After a full day of work with only a 20 minute break midway through for food, Mickey is really feeling his sunburn even more than the day before. He is covered in sweat and he has to stop himself from drooling at the look of Pedro’s lean body in the dirty tank top he'd stripped down to. 

 

He knows he's gonna sleep like a baby that night when Pedro finally tells him they'll tackle the roof the next day. Mickey groans as he strips and steps into the shower. In all his life he's never done that much hard labor before. The cool water feels fucking fantastic on his shoulders and arms. 

 

When he finally lays in the bed he feels bone tired. In fact his eyes are about to droop closed when his phone starts to ring. He groans wondering who the fuck would be calling him. One glance tells him all he needs to know. With a smile he answers.

 

“Hello. Ian?” 

 

There is silence on the other end. Mickey decides to repeat himself.

 

“Hello? Ian?” Mickey is starting to worry that Ian simply butt dialed him when he hears a deflation of breath on the other end.

 

“Hey Mick.” Ian sounds relieved but also hesitant. Like he has something important to say but, he's not sure how to start. After knowing Ian as long and as well as he had, Mickey knew just what to do.

 

“Got my picture?” Mickey teases. He knows Ian needs to be eased into whatever it is he needs to say. 

 

“Y-yeah. I got it. Your white ass is beyond burned.” Ian stammers at first, like he's a little thrown off by the change in subject.

 

“I know right?” Mickey chuckles and then falls silent. He waits for Ian to decide the next move. As he waits he smiles thinking about how much fun they'd be having here together. How free they could both be.

 

“I didn't know who else to call.” Ian says finally. His voice sounds broken. Mickey sits up and itches to be able to make physical contact with the man he loves. 

 

“What's going on Gallagher?” Mickey knows that his tone is betraying his true feelings. He doesn't give a shit though. Ian doesn't need tough as nails, south side Mickey right now he needs caring, compassionate boyfriend Mickey.

 

“Monica. She died.” Ian's words come through the receiver at a volume so low Mickey wonders if he actually heard it correctly. However, Ian’s tone alone makes him know it's true.

 

“Shit.” Mickey whistles out. He knows just how complex and complicated Ian’s relationship with his mom was. He can only imagine how hard her death is on Ian. In the silence between them he can hear every single one of Ian’s thoughts. He knows where Ian’s mind is headed.

 

“You aren't her, you know. You never will be.”

 

“You don't know that.” Ian immediately snaps back. Mickey knows he is arguing just so Mickey will reassure him. 

 

“You don't completely abandon your family. You take your meds, even when you don't want to. You aren't her.” Mickey gives him the reassurance he's looking for without preamble. There is so much more he wants to say to Ian about how wonderful he is, but the words get stuck in his throat.

 

“I miss you.” Ian says in a whisper, as if it's some secret.

 

Mickey wants so desperately to say to him ‘then come to Mexico asshole’ but he knows that's not what Ian truly needs right now. He needs stability and routine; both of which would get thrown out the window if he asked him to come. So instead he says the hardest words he has ever had to utter.

 

“Same, but you need to be there. You have a life Ian. One that doesn't include me anymore. I'm proud of that.” Then he says goodbye and hangs up before his voice can betray his tears.

 

Mickey sighs and leans back against his pillows. He knows that Ian knows he wants nothing more than to be with him but that they can't right now. Mickey’s hand trails down to his dick. He starts to jerk off to the thought of Ian. When he finally comes it's with a tight chest and an ache in his heart. Hopefully he will get to have Ian again soon, but for now his memories of them will have to get him through.

 

For the next week Mickey throws himself into his work. The more he does the less time he has to think about Ian. Not thinking about Ian works well for Mickey. It’s not that he doesn’t care anymore, dammit he fucking cares too much. That’s the problem. He knows he can never really truly function alone if he always lets his mind and heart wander to Ian who is more than a thousand miles away. The ache in his chest and heart isn’t as unbearable the less he thinks about the man he loves. 

Mickey knows that leaving Ian was a hard, if not mutual decision between them. Sure he’d been upset when Ian had initially turned him down, but the more he thought on it and the more he looked into his eyes, the more he knew. Splitting up was the right thing. He hoped that Ian was doing okay. He had sounded broken on the phone; broken and lost. That was to be expected, especially since Monica had just died.

 

If Mickey could reasonably be there in person for Ian during this time, hell he sure would. Fuck he knew how complicated things were for Ian about his mom. Of all the Gallagher children none were more like her than Ian was. Mickey had never actually met her but from all the stories Ian had told him about her he could see why Ian clung to her but also hated her. When Ian had been diagnosed Mickey remembers all the times he would insist that he wasn’t Monica. His siblings kept trying to argue with him, but Mickey knew the truth. He was saying for himself more than anything. He needed to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t her. That he wouldn’t become her. Even now a few years later he still worried about that.

 

It sucked knowing Ian was struggling through a hard time and being unable to be there for him. However, Mickey also knew that the year or so he’d been locked up Ian had learned to live his life without his Mickey crutch. Ian had learned to be independent even though he was bi-polar. Mickey hadn’t lied when he’d ended the call, he was proud of the changes Ian had made in his life. He loved him even more for it. Now it was Mickey’s turn to learn the same thing. How to exist within the orbit of Ian Gallagher without needing him for a crutch. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is life. Updates will be kind of scattered. This fic is hard emotionally on me so I am constructing it a little more slowly than my usual fics. Thanks for the support. ALWAYS!


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